Vivat Regina
by Verasque
Summary: The unknowingly easy but fragile steps it took for Alanna's fate to change, and for Tortall to crown its new Queen.
1. Prologue

Here it is! The sequel to Perpetuation.

-

**Prologue**

She was surprised that no one had protested against her black breeches and violet silk shirt. The tunic she wore was made entirely of spun gold and covered in encrusted jewels. Looking one last time in the enormous mirror, she tried to find Alanna in the imperial stranger who stared back at her.

The stranger's face was pale, her aristocratic features sharpened by the red hair that had been ironed flat to form a sweep of coiled braids. Amethyst bobs twinkled in her earlobes, and an ember hung on a gold chain at her neck. She reached out to touch the stranger's reflection, when her old teacher's voice whispered softly,

"It's time, Lioness."

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and didn't look back. Duke Gareth's reassuring and proud smile gladdened her. She knew that she would not be able to do this properly without his support. A sudden deafening excitement compelled her through the tall doors and into the silence.

Twelve years ago, ten-year-old Alanna of Trebond had often dreamed of being presented her shield in front of a hundred people. But never had she imagined, the thousands of faces that would come to witness the moment she'd be crowned Queen of Tortall.


	2. Part I: Paving the Road

**Part I  
**_Paving the Road_

_-  
_

**November, 441 HE (In the 2****nd**** year of the reign of King Jonathan IV of Tortall)**

­Alanna waited for the summer with vigour. It would be the first time in a long while that she would get a break. Being King's Champion often required hard, lengthy work that demanded a great deal from her. Days on duty, weeks in a small regional conflict, a month for Progress—if she wasn't away from the capital, then her time was taken up going over tactics with Jonathan or training with Raoul.

She had postponed her goal to visit Trebond to see Coram, Rispah and Maude more than once. Her ever increasing duties seemed to escalate and never lessened. Tortall was still in the process of transition, and with Jon ruling the throne without a Queen…time was short and essential. Decisions that would have usually been made between King and Queen were shared instead amongst Jon, Alanna, Duke Gareth and Myles.

Alanna knew knight's work was tough, but being King's Champion was tougher. She rode out to defend the Crown during small skirmishes and accompanied Raoul to negotiate settlements. But at the end of the day, she retired not to her rooms for a long slumber or a soaking warm bath. She just had enough time to change into new breeches and shirt, before helping Jon in his library or attending hours of council meetings.

Gary had finally managed to organise his work at a feasible rate. She could never understand why he'd committed himself to paperwork. But handling the more legal and political side of things suited him. It was Gary who was by Jon's side every time foreign diplomacy occurred. It was also Gary who held public speech during assemblies, and whom arranged Jon's agenda.

All in all; Gary was proficient and intelligent, even more so than his father. Jon knew this, and so he had maintained and strengthened Naxen influence in his political council. With Gary as Prime Minister and Duke Gareth as Royal Advisor, the Crown was formidable. That did not, however, make adjusting to the new reign easier. Jon was respectful of tradition, especially one laid out by his father. But the blood of the Old King ran stronger in his grandson's veins than it had in his son's.

It didn't take a blind man to see why. As the Voice, Jonathan had the unprecedented loyalty of the peoples of the Southern Desert. His friendship with George allowed his authority to seep unnoticed into the world of the Lower City. And with the Dominion Jewel cradled in his hands, Jonathan—conflicted with the _absolute _power he held—envisaged a new Tortall. An empire, he had told her, of the future.

An empire that—to Alanna's chagrin—needed a Queen. Thayet would have been perfect. She was born into royalty and was educated in the arts of such a position. Her beauty didn't hurt either, and Jon could have been happy with her. But on the eve of his coronation nearly two years ago, Jonathan had stopped any chances of that happening.

And although he had ruled successfully thus far, he still needed an heir. For his empire required a successor, and to the well-trained eyes of his closest friends, Jonathan needed a wife. Someone to help search for the charming Prince of Conte who had disappeared during Jonathan's transformation into King of Tortall. Judging by the rate of work that strained the bones of Raoul, Gary and herself; the summer was as good a time as any to introduce Jon back into the circles of court ladies he had previously and so expertly entertained.

When that happened, Alanna could safely relax. While she enjoyed keeping her friend company, she also yearned for some free time of her own. Their _romantic,_ or more so sexual,relationship ended the day they both secured their loyalty to the crown: his in rule, hers in service. She and Jon never mentioned their brief relations before his coronation, and she preferred it that way.

As she continued down the hallway, she caught a glimpse of Gary's study through the slightly open door. Slowing, she noted the papers that were spread hazardously on the desk and littered the floor. Frowning, she shifted her eyes only to immediately avert them in embarrassment. Gary was sitting on a spare chair, kissing his wife—Lady Cythera—of five months ardently as she sat in his lap. As quietly as she could, the red-head reached for the door knob and closed it softly.

The hallway suddenly seemed dark and long. Trudging on to reach her room, she visualised the day when the Summer Palace reopened, and the Tortallan court relocated there instead. _Eleven more days, _she thought, _eleven days until I ride back to Trebond and get a well-deserved break._

But just as spring blazed into summer, her plans of a lone journey back home changed. Instead of the steady and direct trip she had intended, it had been turned into a lazy voyage to accommodate two extra (and hooded) companions: a big grinning Raoul, and the King himself, Jonathan of Tortall.

-

**December, 441 HE**

Even with the King's reassurances that they weren't to be treated any differently than Alanna, Maude was still hesitant. Coram didn't seem to have any troubles, and he grumbled at the two other men as if they were his nephews. Rispah encountered no objections to the King's request either, recognising them immediately as Johnny and Raoul: regular patrons in the days she had worked at the Dancing Dove.

For Maude, it was different. She had not spent the last decade in company with these men. She knew nothing personal about the big Raoul or the sapphire-eyed King. Just in the same way, she was not familiar with the red-headed young woman that Maude had once doubted would ever become a knight. Yet here she was, as stubborn as the day she left twelve years ago, but with a magnificent war horse instead of a pony, and a legendary shield taking the place of hopeful dreams.

On their first night, the tall handsome King had pulled her aside and thanked her. "If you hadn't taught and told Alanna to use her Gift, I wouldn't be here now. My life would have ended through the Sweating Sickness. On behalf of all those lives that have been saved by Alanna's magic: thank you."

Maude had locked herself in her room after, and wept. Wept in pride and in sorrow. When she came for breakfast the next morning, her eyes were devoid of any traces of tears. She shooed away the servants that were openly gawking at the three extra guests sitting at the table. She greeted her new guests by first name, and smiled when she saw their pleased and grateful looks. There was an easy camaraderie between them.

Maude voiced this. "I'm glad that you've gained such good friends, Alanna."

Alanna nodded as Sir Raoul patted the Lady Knight on the shoulder and announced, "She's my favourite."

"Thanks, friend." King Jonathan said dryly, and everyone laughed.

"Those purple eyes drew us all in." Raoul mused, as if only realising that now.

Coram shook his head, "Even Ralon of Malven. Jus' in another way."

Maude recalled what she'd heard about that story, as well as all the others. "You're a lucky lass that the Prince wanted you for his squire. Those would have been an interesting few years. Were you aware that Alanna was a girl, Jonathan?"

"Only too much." Coram whispered at the same time that a pale-faced Jonathan nodded in affirmation. Maude noticed how Raoul immersed himself in his food. Alanna only had a serious look on her face and avoided everyone's gazes.

Coram took a large bite, and looked straight at Maude. "We've heard many a tale 'bout the Prince an' Squire Alan. I'm sure ye wan'na know more 'bout recent 'vents."

Maude heeded the obvious warning and changed the subject, "May I ask why you're here instead of the Summer Palace?"

By midday, curious villagers discovered that the three unknown visitors that had arrived the previous evening were knights from the capital. By supper time, the whole of Trebond knew that not only were the visitors knights, but they were the King, his Champion and the Commander of his army. Word travelled fast, and when Raoul and Jonathan finally decided to explore Alanna's fief, people stared at them in awe and bowed.

While that occurred, Maude and Alanna went to Lord Alan's grave. Maude stood in silence as Alanna paid her respects. When the red-head finished, she found a tomb close by. It was newer and of greater monument than those surrounding it, with the royal seal engraved in a tiny spot at the bottom corner. It shone a dull violet colour when Alanna touched it faintly, but even that did not bring any comfort to the silent tears that now escaped the knight's eyes. Maude willed herself not to react.

When Thom of Trebond died two years ago, Trebond was not the only one who lost a Lord. Alanna lost her brother, the only one person who understood and had really believed in her from the very beginning. The loss was still fresh, and Maude prayed every day that Thom's soul was content wherever he was. His magic had been tremendous; and his memory would linger with those who loved him for a long time.

On their return to Trebond castle, Alanna requested for Maude to place her under a sleeping spell. Recognising the lines of exhaustion on Alanna's face, Maude agreed. Maude unconsciously smoothed out Alanna's hair in a motherly gesture. Alanna didn't move, but the grin on the younger woman's face lightened Maude's heart.

As she placed her fingers on Alanna's temples, an image rose slowly in Maude's mind. It was of a massive gold throne, and on the cushion sat not the King, but a shield with the emblem of a crimson and gold lioness rampant. Behind the throne, the most beautiful woman Maude had ever seen stood guard; a purple-eyed black cat in her arms. Concerned, Maude drew away as the last strings of magic pulled Alanna's eyelids shut.

-

**Mid-January, 442 HE**

Raoul held no particular opinion on Trebond. It was a quaint enough fief on the outskirts of the Great Road North; possessing both a strategic and a problematic position as the lowland base for the Grimhold Mountains. He finally understood why life in the palace had been equated to finding treasure for Alanna. Trebond had a conservative and close-knitted community that revolved around the farm work and crop cultivation that served as its sole means of resource.

His own casual breeches and shirt were considered standard back in Corus; but here his shirt seemed whiter than usual, and his boots shinier. This bothered him a great deal, but he chose not to say anything further. He lived for the adventure and the victory; but in no certainty did he yearn for any kind of fame. Being Knight Commander was enough—at least he knew that he had been given such a responsibility based on his abilities and strengths. The fact that Jon trusted him, and valued his decision making in matters of importance was an honour he never took for granted.

He had never regretted his bold and youthfully determined decision to initiate a conversation with the Prince of Conte more than a decade ago. Jonathan had become a younger brother in most respects for many years following, and without him, Raoul would have never developed such a strong amity with Gareth of Naxen the Younger…or with Alan of Trebond.

Whether or not the other three held the same views, their friendship was as important to him as breathing. He had come to the palace even before he trained as a page, and had grown further apart from the family half serving in court and half left behind in Goldenlake. Gary was his best friend, Jonathan his foster brother and with Alanna as the sister he never had—the walls of the palace were enough to keep him content.

Trebond, then, was another world. Even Alanna moved around like a stranger. Without Thom, Trebond had lost its sentimental importance for her. The only force that brought Alanna back to her birthplace besides the graves of the mother she never knew enough, the father who hadn't loved her enough, and the twin who didn't live long enough—was Coram and Maude.

He may not be Jon, but Raoul knew Alanna enough to recognise how her eyes often betrayed the feelings (that her temper never showed) she sometimes hid by habit. Once upon a time, a little girl had yearned and yearned to become a knight and prove herself to Trebond and the whole world. But now, after achieving her dream and reaping its consequences—both beneficial and disparaging—Raoul knew that the awe and worship were a crushing disappointment instead. Maturity had sharpened his small friend's face, but also her heart.

After being witness to death and corruption of all kinds; being treated like a hero would never fulfil the realistic expectation of being welcomed home as just Alanna. Not the Lioness, but _Alanna_: sister, obnoxious free spirit and trouble-maker extraordinaire.

The ungraceful way she was presently climbing an enormous sturdy-looking tree proved more than just humorous. It proved her desperate enough to cling to any importance that Trebond may have once had. Alanna of Trebond and Olau was a very deep and private person despite her colourful and public legend. The tree, she had pointed out, held onto a shack made of wood where she and Thom had often found a haven in.

"I want to see if my first practise sword is still in there," she was saying, "I can't believe this is still standing! I'd imagined that someone would have knocked it down, or it would have withered away on its o—" the branch she was standing on creaked to his and Jon's consternation, "Own!" She grinned, her bravado not as infectious as they all might have wanted.

"What would you do with the practise sword anyway? It won't be any help to your quest in finding a replacement for Lightning." Raoul asked.

She turned to face him, at least as much as she could from her acrobatic perch on the branches. She rather looked like a monkey, but he was smart enough not to mention it. "I'm not too sure actually. But back in those days it was the biggest sword I had ever wielded. Not as big as Coram's, or your own. But it was more than half my size!"

"Don't put your expectations up too _high._" He snickered, enjoying her glower at his double entendre. "You haven't grown much since you arrived in the pages' hall, a tiny farm-boy who seemed to dabble with flying pigs."

Jon sent a quick searing look in his direction. "Stop encouraging her. Get down _now_, Alanna."

Alanna was not to be output. "Shush, Jon. Let me show that big oaf how wrong he is!"

Raoul beamed, accepting her challenge. It was soon wiped off his face when Alanna's loud cursing had Jon turn ashen. Both King and Knight Commander were too late in preventing the high fall. Jon was beside himself for days after, mumbling the words "stubborn squire" and "wretched Raoul". When Coram reminded them (to Maude's dismay) that Alanna had taken plenty of falls, Raoul saw a look of thoughtful acceptance on Jon's face that was followed by painful foresight.

Alanna may not have proved her earlier challenge, but then again, neither had Raoul. The practise sword she had been intent on regaining was not to be found. All that came from that excursion was a nasty and impatient temper to go with a broken arm. An outcome Raoul himself was most _unfortunately_ not qualified to tend to. Thankfully they could still leave on schedule for the capital in three days. Jon, after all, was as powerful and knowledgeable a healer as he was a knight and a sorcerer.

-

There were valid reasons behind why he had been so adamant that Alanna not climb that pitiful tree. Besides wanting to prevent exactly what _had happened anyway, _he could already foresee the consequences. An ability that seemed to be absent in his two childlike friends, and sometimes had him questioning exactly what he had been thinking when he had placed those two to defend not only national security, but his own life as well. Coupled with a personal issue, he knew that Alanna's 'little accident'—as she firmly called it—would wreak havoc, if not for anyone but himself.

Even if it was only a broken arm, it was still a hazard. Why?

Firstly, it would be a hindrance to all three of them if they were to be ambushed on their ride back home. Secondly, it meant that _he_ would be the one forced to care for redressing her bandages, thanks to Raoul's total incompetence in this regard, and thirdly, which also meant that he would be the bearer of the brunt of Alanna's foul temper. She'd also become the target of ridicule and criticism by the rest of the council members once they returned, which would cast a dark shadow upon things, and lastly, it would force the two of them into _very_ close contact—a situation that hadn't been revisited nor discussed since their (mutually understood to be ignored and buried) relations before his coronation.

Most of these reasons were rational considering the circumstances. Her temper was a familiar presence that everyone tried to contain, since Alanna never seemed to be able (and to his cynical opinion—willing) to do so herself. He knew her well enough to know when such occurrences would arise, and being her best friend meant that everyone assumed he'd be able to bear it without harm.

Raoul's glee was both a point of envy and of irritation.

Alanna herself had been in a dark mood ever since she had woken up to find swaths of bandage covering elbow and arm. Her trip back to Trebond didn't seem to be going as well as he knew she had hoped, except maybe for the fact that she had been able to spend time with Maude, and with Coram. Jon rather thought that Rispah's presence was surprisingly well suited to this domesticity. He knew that George still kept in contact with Rispah through letters, but he hardly ever saw the King of Thieves anymore. He grew sombre at the thought, and forced himself to think of anything else.

It drew him back to his Champion. Which wasn't surprising, since she was in everything he did these days. They had both been careful and loyal in keeping a physical distance between them for the better part of two years, and it had worked. To some extent. He had felt guilt knowing that she had wanted a summer free from any knight's work and duties as Champion—but somehow he knew that if he let her out of his sight she would finally find a good enough reason to cut the strings that bonded them so closely to one another. Of course he would never verbalise this, and chose instead to come up with the weak excuse of using this sole opportunity to see Trebond for himself, and also to keep Raoul company.

His decision to rule alone only intensified how much he needed her by his side. She was his sword arm and his other voice that prevented him from falling so far deep into himself. He didn't bother trying to fix himself up and put himself together; because she had always held onto the tools that made that possible. And in turn, he gave her a reason and a purpose to her shield and her life's cause.

He enjoyed the company of court ladies and potential wives, but not with the wholeheartedness he knew he should have been putting into it. Simply, his work as the new King married his time already, and he had Alanna by his side as a female companion of sorts. He felt tired, as if his days as the Crown Prince had exhausted his romantic pursuits. He was King now, and that was an altogether greater responsibility. He felt that after letting Thayet down; he didn't deserve a Queen. Because she would have been a good one, he knew. And her pure and open nature would have been a godsend in terms of a relationship between the two of them.

If he really thought about it—Thayet would have been his Queen. But his heart and his mind and every part of him had wanted Alanna as his wife. So he had been selfish. He had deprived the country of a Queen, and had landed only more work and stress for the people that were currently filling in that gap. _Uncle Gareth. Sir Myles. Gary. Alanna._

And in the corner of his thoughts, he was aware that while Alanna hadn't wanted to be either his Queen or his wife—she was the prime and only candidate that came close. Judging by the way she had held her breath when he had changed her bandages that evening, he knew the dynamics between them would adjust once again.

It was while he was alone in his guest room that evening that everything changed. He had been repacking his clothes back into his bags for their leave the next morning, when the door to the room had opened and a man walked into the door leisurely. Jonathan froze at the unknown intrusion, and had reached for his sword. When the stranger turned, Jon was aghast.

The stranger was of middle age, but his skin was gold and _glimmering._ The brown-black curls atop his head was void of any silver, and he towered over Jonathan a good head and shoulders. The man's grey eyes looked at Jonathan's defensive stance in amusement. His voice was loud and booming.

"Hello Jonathan. It's been a long time."

-

**Author's Note:** Yes, I've changed the formatting of the chapters. I'm still uncertain if I want the story told in this style—but I guess it will do for now. I think altogether, Vivat Regina will add up to be 3 or 4 chapters long. I also want to express my appreciation to AlannaXJon4ever for her patience and input. And many thanks to: abyssgirl, Kara, brezzybrez, xxTunstall Chickxx, Preethi, lacking a better name, AJ-lover, Wot-Wot, and Merkaba7734 for reviewing.


	3. Part II: Potholes

**Part II**_  
Potholes_

-

**February, 442 HE**

Before she had a chance to let her thoughts turn towards Gary, Jonathan sat across the table. Murmuring his greetings, he turned to his breakfast with vigour. Cythera only watched her cousin-in-law with a small degree of amusement. It had been two weeks since Jon, Raoul and Alanna returned from their sojourn. Cythera knew it must have been a unique sojourn indeed, for the Lady Knight had brought back with her a broken right arm, and two relieved looking best friends. The three had surprisingly kept quiet about the basis for Alanna's injury, but Cythera suspected that it was only to avoid any confrontations with the council.

Everyone was well aware that the older, more conservative council elders were fond of finding any holes or evidence that would discredit the Lioness. A woman whose closeness to the new, young and impressionable King was a point of concern. Cythera had often found that notion ridiculous. Though Gary had informed her of Jon and Alanna's little affair during Alanna's squire years; Cythera had been confident in her conviction that nothing no longer existed between the two.

The King and his Champion were far too close as friends to simply be anything more.

But now, Cythera wasn't too sure. While Duke Baird had assured them that the red-head's arm was healing well, it still put a hamper on the mood in the palace. It was considerable, however, since Raoul spent his time in bed asleep or finding entertainment in the batch of new pages, and Alanna sulked around like a wounded pup or threw withering venomous glares at anyone who even hinted at her unofficial invalid status. But Cythera was conscious that the tension that now existed between the knight and the King went beyond Alanna's self-pity. She just didn't know the exact details.

A fact she planned on changing in the remaining weeks before the summer ended, and court resumed residence in the capital once again. Cythera might not have paid much attention to the two in her years at Court, but now that they were the only few people in the palace besides the pages, squires and servants…she had nothing else to do (besides discuss arrangements for upcoming social events with Jon).

She vividly remembered the plans that her husband, Raoul and Alanna had made for the year. Their aim was to have Jon married within this year, starting with introducing Jon back into the circles of court ladies, as well as forming connections with foreign princesses. This explained why Gary was overseas on a political excursion to win yet another treatise for their King. Rumour had it that the other country was well aware of Tortall's queen-less state, and had designs to amend that unfortunate circumstance. Cythera often laughed at such an arrogant assumption.

She had grown strongly protective of Jon, who was now family. And strangely fond of the hot-tempered Lioness, who was now no longer the quiet and awkward Squire Alan she had once known. Raoul had told her that one didn't escape a meeting with Alanna of Trebond without gaining her as a friend or a foe.

Something about Alanna of Trebond attracted a powerful fierceness. That powerful fierceness gained her a special spot in the affections and loyalties of Jonathan of Conte, Myles of Olau, Gareth of Naxen and other powerful men who held prestigious roles in society. Cythera could only watch and observe as she herself was pulled in.

Turning to her own breakfast, she had just finished her bread roll when a familiar figure entered the deserted Mess Hall and caused Jonathan to stiffen in awareness.

Suddenly conscious of the opportunity, Cythera took it, "Alanna! Come join us for breakfast."

The pursed lips didn't escape Cythera's notice once Alanna caught sight of Cythera's companion. The red-head made her way slowly towards them, her arm tucked in a brand new white sling. "How is your arm?" Cythera asked politely.

Alanna huffed as she purposely sat besides her. "Still numb, though I'm positive I could do without the sling."

"You aren't using your Gift to heal yourself, are you?" Cythera asked in concern, "Duke Baird and Jon here insists that will only tire you more."

"How can I get tired?" Alanna asked, as Cythera sympathised with the knight's irritation, "I don't do _anything._"

Cythera laughed, but then realised that Jon hadn't reprimanded or scolded his Champion like he usually did. Turning her attention to him, she childishly kicked his leg under the table, hoping that Alanna wouldn't notice.

"What, sorry?" he said startled, though his eyes slid nervously to Alanna's before settling his questioning stare at Cythera.

"Alanna was saying that she hasn't been doing anything."

Jon frowned, "Which is correct. She shouldn't be doing anything at all."

"Except sitting around like a useless duck." Alanna snorted from the side.

"She's still healing, and should be grateful that she's finally getting the rest she wanted." Jon told Cythera, his eyes forceful.

Cythera tried to calm the suddenly tensing conversation, "I'm sure she i—"

"I suppose that the rest _she_ deserves has to be the result of a _broken arm!_" Alanna interrupted cynically, and Cythera knew that Alanna had forgotten that Jon and she had an audience, "Not to mention that our _thoughtful _King is an arrogant fool to think that Alanna would need rest after," and Alanna motioned her injured arm in mock emphasis, "fixing her up last night!"

Alanna suddenly stopped breathing beside her when a passing maid gasped loudly in shock.

Cythera, a little dazed, might have lost the thread of the conversation, but she certainly didn't miss the implication of that last comment. Jon's strangled little gasp of pain—or humiliation—only emphasised exactly what Alanna hinted had happened 'last night'. Cythera politely averted her eyes, feeling her cheeks warm. _Gods above! This is certainly unexpected. And to think that Jon was only changing his best friend's bandages… _Great Mother of the seas.

"What I mean is that I don't tire easily!" Alanna whispered furiously, already getting up from her seat, "I better go. I have duties that don't require my sword arm to attend to." And in a heartbeat, the red-head was gone, leaving an empty table seat with a full plate of untouched food.

An odd silence settled between Jon and her. When Jon spoke again, Cythera knew it was an attempt to distract her from the_ surprise_ Alanna let out a minute before. "Sword arm… her left is just as good."

Cythera would have normally appreciated his confidence in his friend's abilities, but her concern as his cousin-in-law drowned that. "How long has this been going on, Jon?" She didn't care that this was really none of her business. "How long have you been sleeping together?"

He looked away quickly, "I don't know what you're talking about, Cyth. Alanna doesn't know what she's saying, so I hope you don't actually bel—"

"I believe in you enough to know that you should stop pretending. How long, Jon?"

He looked at her earnestly, taking his time to answer carefully. "Only last night. It just happened."

"How can it _just happen_? You haven't courted a woman for months now."

Jon's patience seemingly ran out, and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "It's Alanna, Cyth. She's…she's so different, she's _Alanna. _I knew her accident would force us closer physically, but Mithros help me, I couldn't control it."

In a rush of understanding, it suddenly dawned on her. "Are you still in love with her?"

Jon laughed in disbelief, his voice suddenly derisive. "Of course not. It's been years, and it was just a physical thing. I've been lonely for a few months, and so has she, and it was a normal reaction."

"Don't you dare go down that path, Jonathan." She touched his hand reassuringly and harshly. "I know you, and you would rather die than dishonour Alanna by reducing her to someone who could temporarily sate your needs like a common whore." That last word caused Jon to flinch, and she saw the temper flare in his eyes, and knew then that this man could never let go of Alanna anymore than Cythera believed that Alanna could ever let go of him.

"So don't deny the truth, Jon. You're still in love with her."

"No." He said fiercely. "No. We have our duties. And it will not happen again."

Cythera agreed, knew that this was the right way. Because Alanna was not fit for life as a Queen. But that same powerful fierceness about her that drew in the support and admiration of important people would be enough to shape her as a monarch. And her friendship with Jon, her relationship with him—the most valuable and powerful weapon in Alanna's possession—would mould the place that would seat her: as Jonathan's consort.

Suddenly conflicted by her own thoughts, Cythera missed Jon's sad whisper, "Not with a woman who doesn't believe in our love enough."

-

If Alanna thought that the night when she had lost control and had allowed herself to have sex with Jon days ago was shocking, then Jon's comment now beat it without a fight.

"Are you sure?" she choked out.

The serious glance he sent her way told no lie. "I'm fairly positive. I know that it doesn't make much sense—"

"It does make sense. Not just because you're king, either. Jon, have you thought that maybe you're protected by the gods because you're doing something of great importance?"

He was looking at her differently, and she shivered as those sapphire orbs pierced straight into her. He hadn't looked at her so intensely for two years.

"Does it mean I'm doing the right thing? I sincerely hope that's why." He shook his head, still trying to come to terms with the very thought that Mithros had paid him a visit weeks earlier. "It was…amazing and frightening all at once. How do you deal with such a phenomenon? I've read about other deities appearing to individuals frequently, but Alanna, this is _Mithros._ No great god like Mithros or the Great Lady appears to just anyone." Alanna shifted uncomfortably. Jon narrowed his eyes. _Impossible._ "Surely you're not—"

"The Goddess is my supplicant, Jon. It's a complicated but very blessed relationship."

Jon's lips parted in disbelief, and Alanna felt a familiar tingle brush up her spine.

"For how long?" he suddenly demanded.

She frowned at his tone. "I haven't deliberately kept this information from you. It was just never relevant. But she first appeared to me in my first year as your squire."

She was expecting a "Mithros!" but he surprised her once again. "He's appeared to me before. Twice when I was eight. But I didn't know back then that he was a god, let alone the king of gods."

"I don't expect you to share with me what he told you, that's between you and Mi—"

"He told me to follow my '_annoyingly beating _human heart'." Jon had her trapped in his gaze. "And to trust in him. Because my endeavours are worthy."

Her throat was suddenly very dry. _My endeavours are worthy. _Somehow the strange stress between them lately ceased to be of any importance. What was important was the feeling of loyalty and desire and _love _that still bound her to him. Emotions that had been buried for months upon months, and covered up by partnership and friendship and a comfortable air of safety.

"And will you follow his advice? Will you follow your heart?" she whispered, resisting the urge to bite her nails in anxiety. To be honest, to be truthful; they both knew what his heart wanted, had guiltily wanted for years. Wanted, but never received because she had never allowed it. There was no doubt as to what she was asking.

Jon looked away, "I want to. I want to tell you that I still love you, still want you as my wife."

"I…"

"But don't worry," Jon assured, his eyes as hard as diamonds, but voice as soft as the fingers that reached out to hold her cheek, "I wouldn't want to disappoint us both, _again_." And he smiled with no real warmth before leaving her alone and rightfully condemned.

-

**Early March, 442 HE**

Gary closed the door behind him, leaving his father and Duke Baird to place his unconscious cousin into bed. His head suddenly aching, Gary quietly strode away from the King's chambers and headed towards wherever his feet led him.

He had been home for less than a week. After five weeks abroad, he had come home to a beautiful wife and a few free days to rest before he resumed office again for the new year. He had left midsummer; his desk completely empty, and his work all finished. He returned with a brand new treaty signed, and an expectancy to have a few days of fun with his friends before court commenced. Everything had been fine for the first two days. But on the evening of Gary's second day back, Jonathan had drunk himself into such a pitiful state that their small circle of friends immediately knew something was very wrong.

It took a confused Gary a few days to understand that Alanna's absence that night was a major contributing factor. Two days later, Gary and Raoul watched as their friend drunk glass after glass of brandy, while he angrily revealed the poor condition of his relations with the Lady Knight. As equally alarmed as Raoul at the knowledge that Alanna and Jon had slept together recently, and that both had managed to push their delicate relationship to straining point… Gary found that he had no idea how to help.

When Jon continued on his drinking binge the next night; he forced Jon to swear not to touch a glass of alcohol again indefinitely. Thinking that they could leave him alone, it came as a disturbance when he and his father found his cousin unconscious from the alcohol poisoning. Concerned, they had called Duke Baird. If this continued, Gary knew he had to step in before Jon's reputation as a trustworthy and solid King could be affected. And that meant involving himself in the private matter between Jon and Alanna.

Seeing that his feet led him back to the same private library that he had found Jon unconscious earlier, he reigned in his startled reaction at discovering Alanna's presence. His small friend was sitting on the settee, her back to him as she stared out the window as still as a statue. Seeing the handfuls of bottles and half-filled glasses of brandy and wine scattered on the low table between them, Gary felt a small surge of resentment. This woman had broken his cousin's heart more times than once.

But Jon was also a fool clinging on to a woman who had no belief in what Jon had learned to accept. That love that was meant to burn out, would have already. But theirs hadn't. Could she not see that _that_ was the reason she had rejected George, and not sought out any other relationships with any other men? She was still as stubborn as she had always been, but it was times like these that she needed to learn the difference between stubbornness and stupidity.

Or maybe he was being too hard on her. He knew it couldn't be easy for her, either…

"I didn't know it was this bad for him." Her voice was small, wary and pained.

He leaned against the door, pushing his hands into his pockets. "That's just how Jon is, Al. You know that."

"He's just hurting himself," she spoke to the window, "wasting his time on something that we all know won't work."

The part of himself that resented this spoke up, "Is that what you tell yourself? That it would never work? How do you know when you haven't given him a chance?" He hardly noticed when his father entered the room soundlessly.

She turned to face him then, her eyes suddenly outraged, "It isn't about him. It's about _me!_ I don't want to be Queen. Why can't you see that it isn't what I want?"

"How selfish you are then, Alanna of Trebond."

"Gareth." His father warned.

But Alanna stared at him, ignoring his father, with a look of fury and agony. "I'd only make everything terrible for Jon. If I married him the council that you all work so hard to keep united would hate us. Knowing myself, I'd only cause problems for Jon instead of being the supportive wife that he needs, and he'd grow to resent me. And where would that leave my shield? I can't roam, I can't fulfil my duties if I become Jonathan's wife. He needs an heir. I don't plan on having children for a few more years."

"Don't think so little of him, Al. He loves you."

"You're thinking as a good friend would, Lioness." His father suddenly said. "And I commend you on your thoughtfulness. But what do you want, as essentially a person who still loves him?"

Watching Alanna gaze at his father's wise face in confusion, Gary knew then that someone needed to tell Alanna what she wanted to hear. And he would be the one to do that.

"You can do it." He said gently, and the look of raw vulnerability on her normally composed and strong mask endeared her to him just as Alan had first touched him with his ten-year-old trust. "You can try. You don't have to change, to be a proper lady to be Jon's Queen. You became a knight, Alanna. And Jon was there by your side as you made it happen. What's to stop you from doing it again, this time to be Queen?"

"You make it sound so easy."

His father sat beside Alanna now, patting her knee encouragingly. "It will be far from easy. But my son is right. Jon helped you turn a girl into a Warrior; when girls _were_ not suitable for knighthood. The two of you can make a warrior into a Queen. Even though I have so many doubts, I believe in you. And I believe in Jon."

"Your Grace." Alanna's eyes suddenly filled with tears she had not shed in years. Her words were suddenly so uncertain. "I don't know. I can't."

"I'll be here." Gareth of Naxen's old voice was filled with strength. "I'll be here to guide you, just as I was there to teach Alan."

Gary thought it appropriate to add fuel to the fire, "Don't underestimate love, Alanna. Your heart is stronger than your sword."

-

**Author's Note:** Review, pretty please? I'd like to know if this is sounding somewhat plausible, or if I'm diverging too much off a credible alternate ending for AJ. My thanks to: AJ-lover, abyssgirl, flyery, Nicola Sophie and cathaya for reviewing.


	4. Part III: Oncoming Traffic

**Part III**_  
Oncoming Traffic_

-

**March, 442 HE**

Sacherell couldn't take his eyes off Princess Thayet. George's wife of one year was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Granted, Thayet had first appeared some two and a half years ago as a shy but elegant vision of foreign royalty. Her arrival had been the talk of the town; her beauty only overshadowed by the importance of her companions—Alanna the Lioness, Liam Ironarm and K'mir stranger, Buriram Tourakom. Back then, Sacherell had been too busy in his duties as a fairly new Knight of the Realm.

It came as a surprise when he had heard that the Princess _jian _Wilima hadn't managed to ensnare Jonathan of Conte. It was even more shocking when a year later, Thayet quietly announced that she would be marrying George Cooper; the pardoned King of Thieves, and long-time friend of Jonathan and Alanna. Sacherell found it utterly unreasonable and unimaginable that a princess of Thayet's pedigree would lower herself to marry a commoner! The additional fact that the former criminal and former princess now presided over the magnificent seaside fief of Pirate's Swoop only made the whole deal feel so superficial.

To Sacherell at least.

After the initial shock, most people seemed to learn to accept it. And now, the small but highly evident rounded bump on Thayet's stomach cemented the disbelief and (slight) criticism Sacherell had about them. The two didn't even _appear _to be in love, or infatuated, or whatever it was that people fell into when they found the one they wanted for life. But Princess Thayet never even so much as whispered a complaint, not even at the fact that her pregnant state came as a result of—what Sacherell firmly believed—was the sullying of her pure body. No matter if they were married.

Sacherell had envied George Cooper for months. Now, he just didn't care anymore.

Sir Myles of Olau was currently helping Princess Thayet settle herself comfortably on the lavishly soft-cushioned seats in the palace's sun room. Sacherell was sitting to one side of the room, one foot casually placed on his other knee. He had been off-duty for the summer, and while his roster duty didn't start for another month; he had heard from Raoul that they would be discussing more about everyone's attempts to find Jonathan a wife.

It amused Sacherell to no end that Jonathan's friends found it necessary to set him up with a wife. Jonathan remained, up to this day, absolutely oblivious to everyone's plans. Sacherell speculated for a minute if this subject would distress Thayet, but the Princess seemed occupied enough. She had probably made peace with Jonathan anyway, or else she wouldn't willingly be here now.

Sacherell only realised then, that he hadn't really been interested enough in his friend's personal life ever since Sacherell gained his shield around the time that Douglass and Alanna did. King Jonathan was no longer the Prince that Sacherell remembered. And he felt sad at the realisation that he had distanced himself from his friends to the point that he had no real knowledge as to what was happening in their lives aside from their public profiles.

Would Jon's romantic life, or lack thereof, allow them all to share a common interest again? And would that lead on to instigate rebuilding close friendships? Looking at Thayet and Sir Myles, and thinking about all the people who were now linked to the throne through friendships, marriage, blood, respect and duty… Sacherell decided that Jonathan's future Queen would have to be one hell of a woman to keep all these fragile bonds from ever breaking.

-

_He was staring down the window at the pages. Alanna continued into the room until she stood directly behind him. He made no move to acknowledge her presence._

"_Is it always going to be like this between us?" she asked. "We aren't children any longer."_

_Only silence met her question._

_She focused on the few creases of his tunic. "I spoke with Duke Gareth and Gary earlier. They said things that—"_

"_What are you doing here, Alanna? I thought we'd come to a solution."_

"_A solution?" She snorted, "Only you would call it that."_

_He finally turned then, his face irritated and tired. "I tried, I really did. But I'm tired, 'Lanna. I know you are, too. This year will require just as much hard work, and quite frankly, I don't think my heart can take anymore."_

"_I'll be here, you know that."_

"_I don't doubt that."_

"_Good. Then trust that you're still the one for me."_

-

**Mid-March, 442 HE**

She watched Alanna carefully from the shadows. The red-head was sitting on a chair opposite the dais that held the room's crowning glory, her face set in stone as she stared. Thayet had left the room a while ago, leaving Alanna to reflect on her news. She took pity on the Lady Knight, and approached soundlessly, smiling fondly as the red-head sneezed five times continuously.

"Love is hard, but life is even harder." She said, not missing the way that Alanna cringed. She was well aware that her voice was not meant to be gentle for human ears.

Alanna didn't move, but her familiar purple eyes settled on her in a gesture of both respect and wariness. "You'd think I'd have learned that by now."

She laughed, "You have, but you are also only mortal, my daughter."

Alanna winced. "Exactly. Which is why—" Her head turned to stare at the dais purposely.

"A mortal with much ahead of her. Your legend is far from over, Lioness." She could see herself reflected in Alanna's wide eyes; her black hair a curtain of living silk that framed high cheekbones, luminous green eyes and a curved red mouth. She looked so inviting that she knew Alanna would listen to her carefully. "Remember that to move forward in life, you must learn to overcome your fears."

"I thought that I had overcome mine years ago." Alanna said.

She shook her head. "Yes, but in this room lies your next greatest fear."

Alanna took a deep breath and saw the empty golden thrones staring back at her. "How do I conquer it?"

"Don't change," she advised, "that's how you'll survive."

"And when I disagree with Jon?"

She smiled. "You almost always disagreed with Jonathan back when you were still his squire. But that didn't stop you from becoming a knight, did it? You had fears then, too. You conquered them, and it was Jonathan who stood by you through all of it."

Realisation dawned on Alanna then. "I've chosen, Mother. I still love him…I do. And I think he knows that—gods! _Everyone_ seems to know that. But then I think of the crown, the dresses, the balls, the diplomats and I freeze up."

"Those are just small details that you need not worry over. What makes a queen is not what she wears, how she dances or when she entertains. A queen is determined by what she can give to her people, how much she can love, and how strong she will be in defending what is most dear."

"I understand. _Bend it to my will—if I have the courage._" Alanna's voice was determined.

Her spirits lifted, recognising the power that Alanna had come to grow into since their last meeting. "Yes, and you will have many mighty and wise figures to guide you."

Alanna perked up like a curious kitten, "Will they be like you?"

She chuckled then, knowing that Alanna was remembering the time she had been allowed to see the other gods. "No, dear one. They are as mortal as you are." And with a soft breath, she left Alanna alone in the Great Throne Room.

-

_His face was white with incredulity. "You're joking! After everything, now you're changing your mind?"_

"_You aren't listening to me." Her voice was gentle. "Yes, it's always been you. Yes, I'm still in love with you. But I can't promise you marriage just yet. I need time. We need time."_

"_Don't do this to me, 'Lanna. I don't have the time—"_

"_You do. You do."_

_His hands gripped her elbows, as if he were holding onto a dream. "How do you know?" He whispered._

"_Because I'm your best friend. And because you love me."_

_He closed his eyes. "Yes, but I've waited so long. Four long years! Four years of doubts, hope, disappointment, acceptance, fear. I don't know if I can do this with you again, and not have you as mine forever in the end."_

-

**Late March, 442 HE**

Arram Draper frowned in confusion. He felt magic running under his feet, like thin water channels underneath the earth's surface. Only a powerful sorcerer would have been aware of the magical currents. Something _formidable_ had held the land together recently, and his lack of knowledge as to what it was irritated him. He had been on Tortallan soil for weeks now, but the currents had only appeared as he approached the capital.

Slowing, he narrowed his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. Corus was the opposite of Carthak, both physically and magically. There was a feeling of rawness in the air, and if the information he had picked up the past few days were correct—then it reflected the fairly new monarchy. Most of the landscape was dominated by green, with terra coloured buildings and structures. Lots of high peaks and roads led to the heart of the city: the enormous Royal Palace and its training grounds and forests.

There were hundreds of people swarming around, a sight that he had seldom seen in his former home. Youngsters, knights, mothers… all of them were walking uninterrupted, unaware of the power below them. A mix of suspicion and excitement warred inside him, and he wondered how he was going to shape an identity for himself here. He would need to speak with the King, granted of course that he would be allowed near the old man.

He was prepared that a meeting might be denied. He had heard plenty of stories that Tortallans were arrogant fools that were too self-righteous for their own good. That the current King's own cousin threatened his own flesh and blood to gain the throne. Who knew what kind of old fools ran the country? Were they even aware of the magic that hummed in the city?

Unimpressed—despite the remarkable castle and the content citizens—he continued on his way towards the entrance that the hostler, Stefan, had directed him. As he turned right, he stumbled into a conversation between a young lord and a squire.

"Riders, Jon? Will that even be possible?" The boy was saying.

The man named 'Jon' nodded. "It's just a thought for now. There will be plenty of discussion by the council regarding such a subject." He looked at the boy pointedly, and Arram wondered what that meant. "I thought you of all people would be ecstatic about this."

The boy shrugged. "I don't know about _ecstatic, _although I admit it will cause a lot of speculation. But I do like the idea. And I appreciate the fact that you're being so open in giving both males _and _females an opportunity."

"You're my inspiration." A shy red hue appeared on "Jon's" face. The younger boy gaped for a few seconds before he averted his eyes. Arram's eye ticked at the queer exchange. "But I think it's a worthwhile investment. We need strong warriors, even if they aren't knights." Jon continued.

"Will they need the Shang as teachers? Or are knights what you have in mind? I don't think Raoul or the Own have extra time on their hands."

"I'm not so sure." The young lord sighed. "As I said—it's just an idea. We can think of the specifics later."

Arram was definitely lost. Feeling ashamed for eavesdropping, and bemused as to why these two men would be talking about training youngsters, he stepped forward out of the shade. He must have miscalculated his step, for the next thing he knew, the squire had moved fluidly in front of "Jon" and directed his piercing violet eyes at Arram. The boy's hands were comfortably on his sword hilt, at the ready.

"Who are you?" Were the first words out of the spitfire's mouth.

Amused, Arram looked down at the boy from his nose. "Numair Salmalin. I'm looking for the entrance to the Palace."

"The entrance is to the west. If you were genuinely looking for the entrance then you wouldn't be here and listening in on a very private con—"

"Excuse me?" He asked, affronted. How dare this boy talk to him like that?

The young lord moved forward then, and Arram definitely did not miss the way that the man's arm curved around the small red-head's waist. Was that normal? The boy instantly shut his mouth, but the scowl remained glued in place.

"My apologies, Master Numair. The Lioness is only doing her job." He addressed Arram, wisdom in his clear eyes. Obviously, a sorcerer knew a mage when he saw one. "Although sometimes, she forgets her manners. But the Lioness is right. I'm afraid you're on the wrong path. If you cross pass the gardens, the stone walkway will lead you to the main entry."

_Lioness?_ The tiny violet-eyed dragon was a woman! Why was _she _guarding the man?

Still a little dazed, Arram nodded. "Thank you, Sir…?"

The blue eyes twinkled jovially. "Jonathan."

-

_Jon's lips ghosted over her cheeks. She allowed him to pull her to his chest, and she focused all her energy on caressing the nape of his neck. A few seconds later, his lips slipped over hers and she welcomed the kiss. There was no feeling like this anywhere in the world. Jon had been her first lover; she was certain he would be her last._

_Pulling apart, their breathing was ragged and deep. "I think I understand." He said against her throat._

"_You do?"_

_His hand moved down her spine tantalisingly. "We've been together everyday for the past three years. As partners." His teeth grazed her collarbone. "As friends." His fingers curved around her bottom, cupping a cheek possessively. "And we may have made love once or twice, but I want to prove to you that you can also be my wife. So we'll keep quiet, and we'll continue as we have. I don't need a woman to love, Alanna. I already love you."_

_Gratitude and fondness rushed around inside her. "Thank you." She smiled at him, easing their bodies apart and held his hand. "It'll just take time. We deserve that."_

"_I deserve that." He replied arrogantly. "After all, I'm going to need all the preparation in the world since I'm the poor lad who will be stuck with Alanna the Lioness forever."_

"_Don't be so cocky, Sire. You forget who now holds your entire future in her hands."_

-

**Author's Note:** I may have turned 19 and had the chicken pox lately. Other than that, hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Rest assured that Numair and George/Thayet will continue to be addressed in future chapters. Also, check out my new story Diamond Dogs, which is a modern AU experiment that I hope isn't entirely pathetic. Belated Happy New Year!!


	5. Part IV: Mapped and Made

**Part IV  
**_Mapped and Made_

-

**Early April, 442 HE**

"I'd appreciate your patience and cooperation even if it pains you. Just a little consideration about the amount of protocols and laws that need to be addressed..."

A woman's loud growl echoed around the room. "I'm tired! You think it's easy to spend days travelling to Port Caynn and meeting with that old bore amidst the disgusting salty air? _I'm_ asking you to be a tiny bit more thoughtful to my plight. I only got back yesterday. The least you can give me is a whole day without hearing about more laws, complaints from this fief and strategies to meet the economic needs of that barony! I've just settled a nasty trade exchange for you for the sake of _peace_ with the Copper Isles."

Numair frowned at the exchange and hesitated at the closed doorway. He could hear the argument clearly as though no closed door stood between him and them. Tortall wasn't turning out to be very promising.

"I'm asking you to just listen, Alanna," the man pointed out rather wearily, "it doesn't require you to exhaust yourself. You need to stop complaining."

"You are completely out of line, my lord," the woman whispered coldly. "It always has to be about you, doesn't it?"

The King laughed in reply. His next words were laced with bitterness. "You're one to talk, Lady Knight."

Numair decided enough was enough. It had taken him days to finally locate the King of Tortall, and he wasn't going to let the opportunity slide by because the King and his Champion were in the middle of a verbal sparring match. Finding out that the she-dragon was the King's Champion had baffled Numair into several days' worth of silence. He thought it was peculiar that a king would choose a _female_ knight—the first in over a century in this country it seemed, and the first ever that Numair had ever heard of—to hold such a principal role in his reign.

Why not a trusted male knight that wasn't so young? A monarch's chief delegate should always be someone more than just a recent hero. Even Numair knew Tortall had followed tradition and culture to the ends of the earth and back for generations.

As the argument inside the door escalated, the mage suddenly drew back and fell into the chair beside the wall. The small spasm that had furled underneath his ribcage a second earlier sent a shock of cramping magic up his chest, through his shoulders, down his arms and straight into his fingertips. _Great Shakith's eyes! _He waited a whole minute before he realized that the painful sensation would not dim even for a second.

The pinch had never been as intense as it had. The power in that room _beckoned _him. He was confident that whatever source was in the King's private library was behind the nightmares that plagued him of terrifying beasts and human carnage massacred on Tortallan soil. It had drawn to life in his unconsciousness things that belonged in volumes, studies, and the Divine Realms.

"What's wrong with the Jewel—_be _careful!" Numair heard the suspicious voice of the Lioness as loudly as if she had shouted it in his ear.

As his limbs numbed to a magnitude far greater than he had ever experienced, the door beside him was wrenched open and a man stood there with a blazing artefact in his hands. Numair looked up in shock to find Sir Jonathan staring at him in alarm, before Numair slumped to the ground as boneless as a star fish in Carthaki shores.

-

**April, 442 HE**

Coram navigated his way through the Temple District with unease. He had never been much of a religious person, save for what he considered a general belief—in Mithros and the Great Mother Goddess. So it came as no surprise that it took him much longer to make his way through the district since he had not set foot there from the time when Alanna was made a knight.

The Lass now owed him a week's worth of free generous breakfasts.

As he followed the main pathway, he observed his surroundings under his lashes. The lavish temples, grand icons and statues, small chapels and large altars forced him to walk faster. Seeing people venerating in such a place always made him nervous for a reason he could never quite understand. He cursed quietly under his breath for a few minutes until relief came in the form of the Mother Goddess' altar in the centre of the district. As he approached, he halted outside of it and controlled the twitching in his calloused hands as the women standing guard watched him carefully.

He nodded at the lone figure inside to indicate what he was doing there. Coram guessed that the room had been vacated to give the Lioness some privacy for a few moments. She was kneeling, eyes closed, at the very front of the pews without the usual stiffness in her shoulders. Coram could remember a time when she held herself differently; as naive as she had once been. But time had taught her well and shaped her perceptions.

Thanking her supplicant for all the blessings in her life was just as important as wielding her sword to fight for what she believed in.

He waited for a while before the red-head finally moved. Her eyes widened when she saw him leaning against the door. Coram realised then that he truly hadn't visited this area in years.

"Hullo," she greeted casually, "I didn't expect you here of all places."

He grunted. "Ye an' me both, lass."

"I'm sorry you had to wait so long. I thought you weren't coming to Corus until May with the boys."

Would he have only found out the news if he had stuck to his plan? Coram wondered if the lass understood how much she would be sacrificing, as well as gaining, with the decision he had been informed she had made. "I wanted to surprise ye, but I've arrived to find that I was the one who was surprised!"

He watched as she frowned in confusion, before it dawned on her. Her lips compressed into a tight line.

"If yer gonna react like that, then I think ye better sit down an rethink this through."

She didn't seem to appreciate his advice and hurried up their pace. At least she wasn't denying it—he had to give her that. A long time ago, Alanna would have been bull-headed in avoiding matters she didn't favor or wanted to consider. The Lady Knight was incredibly good at not only showing her feelings, but also covering them up too.

"I've given it as much thought as I could. That's all I've been doing for the past month." She slowed down then and bit her lip. Coram knew that a fresh thought had just entered her mind. "I'm crazy for even thinking this might work, aren't I?"

The purple eyes conveyed so many emotions that Coram felt his heart constrict a little. Alanna had doubtlessly encountered her hardest decisions in recent weeks, and a tiny part of him felt guilty at not being there. It was a pact between them; he was there to support her by slapping her hard when she needed it. She returned the favour by becoming the best she could be. In many ways, this young woman had been his first daughter and she would forever hold that spot in his affections.

"If that's what ye believe, then we're all crazy." He fished around his mind for the right words. "If ye are absolutely certain, and have looked at it from all the sides available to ye... then perhaps it will be alright. I believe in ye."

"I know."

Coram hurried up as they neared the exit of the Temple District. "I never knew ye had so many dreams. Ye always wanted to be a knight. But by the gods," he thought that was rather appropriate considering their environment, "_Queen_ too? Ye'll turn the Council against the Crown!"

She sent him a searing glare. "Don't remind me, Coram. I'm working on that."

"How can ye be workin' on it?" he asked, finding it illogical. "Everybody knows that them nobles hate ye like a rottin' fish."

"They've gotten used to me, anyway," she managed, looking quite miffed.

"That's te biggest lie I ever heard." He sighed and placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. "Look lass, it ain't that I don't trust ye, but can ye really handle this? Being queen will take the energy out of ye. I don't wanna see that happen. To ye or to Jonathan."

"That's life, Coram. And we can't hide. Eventually, we all have to live it."

He cocked his head and examined her. She had grown up, hadn't she? Yet the fire in her eyes convinced Coram that although she had become a legend, she still had a world in front of her. It was always easy to say one thing, but carrying it out was a whole other. He didn't only fear a damaging impact on Tortall if something went terribly wrong while she sat on the throne... but that it might cripple her and distinguish that fire within. Could she still be Alanna amidst a world that contradicted so naturally against her character?

She must have read his thoughts from his expression. She locked her jaw and looked away, but he did not miss the way her eyes hardened. She had always been brave, hadn't she? "I don't want to be scared of _anything_."

"And I respect ye because of that. Ye've no idea how proud I am of you. And now, Queen..."

Her face whipped back at him and she smiled. The gesture reminded him of a pert yet strong ten-year-old who had been so determined to show him her potential. "Don't you know?" she asked softly, "that all the stars I've reached are for you?"

He was horrified to discover that his eyes had watered. As soon as she heard him sniff, she laughed. Coram could do nothing but suck up his pride and come up with a quick retort. "Since when did ye start sprouting poetry like a learned woman?"

Her jaw slackened slightly. "I shall refrain from replying in an unbefitting manner, old friend. Where did you hear about—you know, anyway? I haven't told anyone and Jon agreed not to t—he _told_ you!"

"Don't go blaming the poor lad for that. When I asked fer ye, he asked for my blessing." Coram thought back to that conversation two hours earlier. It had shocked a few years right off him. As much as he liked the boy, he just wasn't expecting Jonathan to act like that. The King had always been confident, and if Coram was honest—he had lost some of his fondness and respect for the boy after the way he conducted his affair with Alanna in the desert years earlier.

Alanna raised a brow. "He did?"

"He's a good man, lass," Coram explained but was certain that Alanna herself understood that. Alanna of Trebond never gave anyone a second chance if she didn't believe they deserved it. "He's goin' to change this nation. The Old King would be proud of him. Yet, ye'r to be careful. Jasson's blood runs potent in Jonathan. It has its downside too."

"I'm not going to let his arrogance get the better of him. He knows that."

"Good." Coram let out a fanciful sigh as soon as they started the long trek back to the Palace. "Why don't ye ride the distance? Ye don't have to walk."

"Stop complaining, old man," she punched his shoulder. "Besides... it's the only free time I have to think without anyone else bothering me. And to address more immediate matters, where are your boys?"

"With Raoul, believe it or not. Thomsen is convinced that because Raoul has taken to him, he'll be a member of the Own when he's grown."

"Ha! Someone needs to tell him that he needs to start his training first. And Jonthair?"

Coram smiled pleasantly at the mention of his eldest. "Ready to begin his page training. His sister spilt milk all over his clothes in the mornin' during her little tantrum, but he took it calmly and told his Ma that he was gonna take it as a good omen."

Alanna grinned. "The next generation of Smythesson's are in fine form."

"They should be," Coram pointed out. "'Specially with _ye _as their Queen."

She groaned. "I despise that!"

"I'm only jokin' with ye, lass. Ye know I'm here for ye. For the both of ye." Despite how much he was happy for Alanna and Jon, he still had his concerns. After all, Coram was an old veteran when it came to the lesson that reality was not to be taken lightly. And reality had already taken a far diverse route when it came to these two strong figures. How far would it test them?

---

**Early May, 442 HE**

"So it's legitimate," Raoul said, a hint of finality and reflection in his tone.

Thayet nodded silently and tried to make herself more comfortable. The chair was awfully stiff, and didn't pad the small ache in her back. Without warning, a firm grip pushed her forward gently and slipped a cushion between the wood and her body. She gave a graciously appreciative smile to Gary who had just walked in. He leaned down and pecked her on the cheek fondly. "How are you this day, Princess? My wife awaits your company for this afternoon."

Thayet beamed. "Yes, we're due for a rather long conversation."

"I'll stay out of it, then, you understand." She didn't bother hiding her grin. These people around her made Tortall seem like it had been her home for years.

Raoul interrupted them with an obviously fake growl. "As _I_ was _saying_, I didn't actually believe Jon would go through with this. And so soon. Alanna must be thrilled."

Thayet disagreed with the former. She thought Jonathan had been wise in proclaiming that girls were now eligible to train for knighthood. A very progressive decision, as the conservatives criticized and protested, but Thayet had never really been one for too much tradition. Countries needed movement towards change. Otherwise, they'd be stuck in the same place they had always been. History's greatest moments had always led to lessons being learnt, and milestones being achieved in establishing development for one's way of life.

George had taught her to reach further than she could. Sometimes, giving up everything one had been accustomed to was the only fashion in which one could find, then build greater things. And if that failed—then at least the greatest failure had been avoided and surpassed; cowardice and regret for the things that could have been were painful destinations for anyone who ran away and settled with second best.

"I haven't seen her at all since then," Thayet noted. "I was telling Jon to go through with the law the last time I saw her last week. I suppose Jon sent her onto the field again."

Raoul massaged the back of his curl-covered head. "Perhaps. But I haven't spent much time with her on the field since the trade-dispute consultation we accompanied Duke Gareth on. Thank Mithros my company will be getting a week's reprieve. I haven't had a decent break in months."

Gary snorted in disbelief at his friend. "You had the entire summer off lazing around with Jon while I was away collaborating on a peace treaty. You forfeited the right to complain when you accepted the post as Knight Commander."

"Please, Gareth," Raoul replied, "I don't complain. Alanna does that."

Thayet hid a grin behind a stern look at the knight. "That isn't very nice."

"Don't act so nice, princess," he teased. "We all know you're just as bad as we are."

She wanted to pinch him for the comment playfully but her protuding belly stopped her from getting up. Despite the fact that she was only in the early months of her pregnancy, she didn't want to upset her husband or the baby. Smiling, she relaxed and turned to Gary for help. Her giddiness died when she saw the troubled—and perhaps even frightened—look on his face.

"No, they didn't," Gary whispered to himself in horror.

"Gary?" she asked in concern. "What's the matter?"

He held up a small parchment of paper that he had been examining on Jon's large, mahogany oak desk and hesitated for a split second before he passed it to Raoul. This time, she stood up slowly and carefully to walk over to Raoul and join him as they read it.

"Mother of Mares!" Gary prattled. "Are they out of their _bleeding_ minds?"

"They sure know how to pick a time," Raoul managed in a weak croak. He proceeded to cough the astonishment out of his chest.

Thayet bit on her bottom lip.

_Gary, we'll be back soon. Jon._

Did that mean Alanna too?

-

The movement of the tent's flap door startled Kourrem so much that she bumped into the woman walking past her. Apologizing profusely, she twirled back around to ascertain what she had just seen. Standing at the frame of the entrance was the Voice, his mouth set in a tired yawn that he covered with one tanned hand. Once his vivid blue eyes caught on her standing there gawking at him, he grinned and beckoned her to come closer.

Hurrying to do as he bid, she stopped a foot in front of him and bowed low. She noticed trivially that the toes of his boots peeked out from under the long hooded robe that draped his form.

"Good morning, Kourrem," he greeted, a lazy elation in his deep voice. The brilliant heat of the desert sun didn't faze his pleased countenance. Kourrem nearly chuckled at the thought. She doubted _anything _could upset the harmony that took place two days prior.

"Good morning to you, your majesty," she returned genuinely, and desperately willed herself not to blush or stammer when she met his gaze. "You've risen early."

"Early?" he repeated in confusion. "We've been in here for tw—ah."

She could only nod and temper down on the giggle that bubbled in her throat.

"We didn't want to overstep our privileges as guests. I'm aware we arrived without notice and that must have—"

"No, sire!" she corrected him hastily. The discovery that he thought _they _were intruding was appalling. "You're the Voice. And you are not simple guests, your maj—"

"'Jonathan'," he interrupted.

"Your—Jonathan." An awkward silence resulted when she amended her address. Realising the humour in it, she felt the worry in her shoulders ease greatly at his laugh. "We're accustomed to not seeing newly-bound for a full week. They seem fond of staying… inside."

His mouth formed into an O before a light indiscernible flush painted his cheek bones. "I see. In any case, the lady still slumbers. The argument we had last night about the excessive lengths I made her go through just to 'tie her to me' seemed to finally tire her."

_Oh gods, I've embarrassed Jonathan of Tortall. _"Would you like to wait for her to wake before having some breakfast? We'll start preparing a northern feast for everyone in order to celebrate. It is only right since the both of you have chosen to conduct the marriage ceremony here amongst our tribe. We are honoured." She bowed again.

He bowed in return, and she wondered if he had seen the events of the past few days in his visions. But the brightness radiating from him conveyed otherwise. "Celebrate?" he asked. "I thought the celebrations ended after the ceremony."

"No, this is to pray for fertility. And also to exult in the strengthening of the partnership you have both entered into." And for peace, Kourrem silently added. For peace and a new beginning for all of Tortall.

-

Thoughts?

**Author's Note:** I should be shot for my lack of updating (four months!). I started a blog, so any updates concerning Vivat Regina would be mentioned there. **My utmost thanks to** cathaya, brezzybrez, Sandrilene Laterne, LadyKnight0207, Merkaba7734, mia-piin, Kara, Preethi, scarletmage, Tortall101, ultimatedramaqueen, turquoisewaters, MaileS, and Gallan Princess for commenting on the previous chap!


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Myles of Olau watched as she knelt down carefully onto the dais, her back straight and stubborn and facing the immense crowd. Her eyes were trained unwaveringly at the priest in front of her, who was dressed in his best finery once again. The words of law and church were dictated loudly and strongly from the minister's lips and filled the stifling air of the silenced hall like precious air. Yet, he paid no attention to it, focusing only on the faces that surrounded the coronation floor.

His lovely wife, Eleni, sat in the front pews with a humoured look in her usually subdued eyes. Beside her was George—a man Alanna loved, and would continue to love as the years flowed on—whom Myles was proud of in his own fatherly way. The former Rogue held only pride in his eyes as he witnessed his lass take on her greatest adventure. Princess Thayet held her husband's hands tightly, a look of respect and sadness in her kind expression. _This _could have been Thayet's moment; but the fates had been denied and Thayet's heart now belonged to the hazel-eyed man at her side and the infant babe that rested in her lap.

So many had come so far this day. Alanna of Trebond was not the only eagle that would soar this night.

Coram Smythesson, Buriram Tourakom, Maude, Geoffrey, Douglass, Sacherell, Baird of Queenscove, Cythera of Naxen, the Lord Provost… all those individuals created a solid and solemn network that stood firm and forward behind the red-head that was biting her lip in impatience. A small smile painted its way across his lips, and the grin on Raoul's face as he guarded the ceremony eased the anxiety he nurtured in regards to the conservatives' reactions to this occasion.

It wasn't easy. It was _never _easy—particularly when it came to the Lioness of Tortall and how much power she held in influencing Jonathan. The council were wary, traditional, senile and strict. And having the Lady Knight as their queen went against every principal Tortall had upheld for over a century in its politics and its culture.

The crowd shifted tensely as Alanna tersely sealed her vows. Gary leaned closer and commented on Jonathan's pale, nervous face. "I don't think I've ever seen him so frightened," the knight whispered.

Myles shook his head and was reminded of the phenomenon he had beheld eleven years ago. Page Alan had reached into the Black God's well and extended her hand to the Crown Prince amidst a room filled with vibrant violet fire and malicious sorcery. The memory surged into his mind as Alanna pledged and bound her soul to the throne. As the rustle of robes adjusted the glittering crown high above Alanna's bowed head, Myles of Olau knew that his adopted daughter had come full circle.

Gareth of Naxen's old but familiar hand gripped his shoulder from his other side. "She's now destroyed this court and in its stead—made it a family. Is it no wonder that a Lioness is a queen too?"

Myles sucked in a breath and tried to hold in the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. As he let it out, he caught Alanna give him a quick desperate look before the crown was placed and locked on her head. He heard her soft growl at its weight.

A haunting chuckle pierced his ear and he saw a ghost-like figure appear by Alanna's side. It caressed the prized diadem that circled the locks of Tortall's new queen as a familiar black cat purred against Alanna's knees. "Vivat Regina!" the young, mesmerising maiden exclaimed. "_Long live the Queen!_"

When Myles blinked, only Alanna remained. Her husband surged forward and Myles' beating heart pounded to a new rhythm. This day—as the two monarchs finally turned to face their people—it was not Jonathan who made a point to the world. It was Alanna, and her will alone.

-

**Author's Note:** If you really think about it, it's only the beginning. This is dedicated to everyone who read and reviewed… thank you for all your support!


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